I learned that potato skins should never, ever (even accidentally) go into a garbage disposal and that drain de-clogger not working overnight doesn’t bode well for the next evening’s dinner plans.
I’ve learned that one should probably keep the fish sauce cup at the wonderful Vietnamese restaurant a little farther away from the grabby 2 year-old, and that wet-resistant khaki’s are no match for said sauce’s mighty stink/stain power.
I’ve learned that, like me, 2 year-olds hate the smell of fish oil on their clothes and will forcibly remind us of this, no matter how fast we attempt to bundle them out of the restaurant.
I’ve learned that “one more time” (no matter how adorably it is pronounced by the girls) is kid-code for “If you stop singing ‘Mary had a little lamb’ during this drive home, we’ll make you pay. Loudly”.
I’ve learned that the fun new “no tear” kids’ shampoo means it doesn’t tear your children’s flesh with nano-razors, but it’s probably still going to make them cry if it gets near the eyeballs.
I’ve learned that attempting to cheer up two crying 2 year-olds with silly faces and tickling should not be attempted when said children are not as yet in new diapers and wrapped in naught but a towel on my bed.
I’ve learned that perhaps waiting for the wife to return home from the store so that I might ask the correct procedure for washing a comforter without making the washing machine sound like it’s bare-knuckle boxing Mechagodzilla directly into The Who’s touring amps (thus waking up otherwise sleeping children) is probably a wise course.
I’ve learned that even with all fights, heartbreak, and pain we’ve caused each other over the years, at the end of a very long day – scotch is still my friend.